


Shot Through the Heart

by bdamanlover4ever



Series: Craig Wears Light Up Skechers [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hugs, Love Confessions, M/M, Mariner Craig, South Park: Phone Destroyer AU, Warboy Tweek - Freeform, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 18:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bdamanlover4ever/pseuds/bdamanlover4ever
Summary: “Gah! Are you serious?”“Why do you give a fuck?” Craig asks nonchalantly.Tweek glares at his boyfriend. His words more than a whisper, but just less than a growl. “I don’t.”“Good. This is war. In war you don’t have feelings and you can’t feel any emotio-“ The words freeze in his throat. Empty eyes dwell on a crooked smile, and Craig is damn certain that it isn’t a reflection of inner peace or joy.Tweek’s aloofness...represented on his cracked darkened lips. “Maybe you’re ngh...” He pauses, the very idea sends a jitter through him. Chasing it was the whisper of appeared to be sorrowful regret. “It’s just my heart.”Craig nods. Long as Tweek agrees with it, he can keep lying to himself. He can keep telling himself, these feelings aren’t real because this is a war zone. No matter how much he wants to...—it doesn’t mean anything. It won’t do anything beneficial for victory.





	Shot Through the Heart

Blond hair stays low as cold eyes glow among the fighting crowd. He observes all the sneaker marks left in the dirt and smudged plans drawn into the snow. Random shadows loom over, without name tags describing themselves as friend or foe.

One shadow seems to be rapidly growing. The darkness shifting to devour more of the sunlit beams that fall on the warboy’s shoulders. It morphs into a shape as wind blows roughly through untamable hair.

A buzzing is heard, but the boy remains poised and battle-ready. Unphased. Unshaken. Unbreakable. Resolve and murder runs through his veins like heroin in a needle.

“I don’t know if you’re overly courageous or just a dumb ass.” Stern words make the warboy rise in attention. His neck cranks over and shoulders hunch back, allowing the sun to hit his tattoo covered chest. Bloodshot pupils roll until they land on the source of the sound—frowning green goo covered lips. “Honestly, you’re probably a bit of both.”

Hands tighten their hold on the burning torch. “I knew this was a suicide mission, the second I charged in.” The fire crackles loudly, flames dancing wildly with the desire to kill.

The mariner screws up a brow, “So you are a dumb ass.” He slowly runs a thumb over the nauseating weapon in his possession. The light gleams over a toxic mix of pee and dumpster juice. “That makes things a lot easier,_ Honey. _” The nickname comes out his mouth with a little venom in contrast to the sweet way he usually says it.

Their sights locked on each other. Eyes gazing at one another intensely, _ daring _for one to be bold enough to make the first move.

“Craig.” Tweek’s lips curve cunningly. “You don’t have the...ngh... balls to shoot me.” His teeth dig into the plastic cap, they rake across the top until it suctions into his mouth. Aggressively, he spits the cap to the ground and begins shaking up the paint fumes. “But I have absolutely nothing to lose.”

The loud ticking of the paint shaking sounds almost like a bomb. And Craig knows there is _ going _to be a slaughtering like there was one if he doesn’t stop Tweek.

The gun shifts in Craig’s grasp. He narrows his eyes preparing to take aim at his boyfriend, “I’ve been training for this.” His finger finds familiar comfort in the grove of the trigger. “And nothing is going to stop me.”

“AAAARRRGAAAH!” Tweek lets out a war cry, as his finger presses down on the spray paint. He moves the can wildly, unleashing waves of high chaos. “Do you worst!” The metal falls to the ground with a loud ‘_ clunk _’ signaling a declaration of war.

Robotic sounds and bits of dust bounce around them, speeding up by the seconds. The world seems flipped upside down as the fumes supercharge everyone. Things move in a blur to more battle cries ringing out in the distance.

Lighting strikes.

Explosions.

Poisons.

Toxic waste rains down in random spots. The furious trigger finger unable to stop firing the deadly weapon until it’s target is annihilated. Bodies drop in agony while others scramble to retreat.

All the bloody screams are enough to make anyone’s knee buckle—anyone but the warboy. He’s moving at what seems to be lightning speed...it’s like he’s everywhere, yet nowhere at all for the mariner to land a clean shot on him.

Craig inhales sharply, paint, dirty diapers, piss, and coffee, hit his nostrils. His eyes illuminate briefly, _ coffee. _ He’s so close. The direction he’ll charge from is unclear, but Tweek’s so close his senses are on high alert. It’s like he can _ feel _ the other boy breathing against the back of his neck.

“Ngh...Craig.” A voice hums eerily; hot breath tickles the inside of his ear.

The mariner jerks with hostility. A few drops of the disgusting liquid oozing out the nozzle, in preparation to shoot at the first thing that moves. “Don’t get so cocky.” His tone drops deviously, teetering on determination and pride from his sharpshooter dexterity. “I still have plenty of ammo left.”

Incoherent screeching rumbles a sickness in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he can’t take in oxygen and a bright flame blinds his vision. Pain shoots through his body, as the taste of earth enters his mouth.

Crimson blood drips on the mariner’s pissed off face. “Checkmate.” Tweek licks his chapped lips with his wicked and sandpaper grating tongue. Deadly dark bags surround war struck majestic eyes, prostrating him into submission.

“Fuck.” Craig cusses. He turns his head left and right, searching for any aid. The body on top of him is shaking slightly and he can’t help but feel captivated by the nervous movements. His eyes get drawn back into the gorgeous tattoos littering skin, they follow upwards to meet a determined face. “I bet you never thought you’d get this far.”

Tweek tilts his head to the side, “You’re a fool.” His breath smells like coffee and goldfish. The strange combination makes Craig winkle his nose. “If you really thought I charged in alone.” 

Craig feels the sickness in his stomach spread. “I have backup on the way.” He attempts to bluff. Out the corner of his eye, he notices his helmet is knocked off to the side. “They’ll fuck you up.” A single hand rest on his weapon and he only needs to catch Tweek off guard for a second to use it.

“No. They’re too busy defending themselves to worry about you.” A dirty hand rummages through raven hair, smearing debris and paint. “But don’t worry. The water will carry your blood away.” The warboy says with a sharp smile.

The mariner's breath heaves. The water hose on the side of Kenny’s house roared, as if in response.

“You guys played a good game. If you would have never left your post to come investigate me, well…” Tweek spins the torch in his palm. The hot embers dance across the sky in a hypnotic display. “You might have actually won.”

“Not my fault the sound of you makes my heart stop.” Craig murmurs. The full confession, “_ I was worried you got hurt. It’s rare for you to be so quiet... _” rest under his tongue. The rocks dig into his armor, as Tweek shifts more weight on his pelvis.

The almost ethereal words don’t fall on deaf ears. Tweek’s eyebrows raise slightly, proposing a treaty between them. “Do you love me?”

Craig swallows hard, his eyes blinking owlishly. “Of course…” His words are softly spoken, almost fragile.

_Fragile_.

_ Meaning their bond could be broken. _

Tweek refuses to believe that…He refuses to believe their love could crumble and blow away with the wind.

“Gah! Are you serious?” 

“Why do you give a fuck?” Craig asks nonchalantly.

Tweek glares at his boyfriend. His words more than a whisper, but just less than a growl. “I don’t.”

“Good. This is war. In war you don’t have feelings and you can’t feel any emotio-“ The words freeze in his throat. Empty eyes dwell on a crooked smile, and Craig is damn certain that it isn’t a reflection of inner peace or joy. 

Tweek’s aloofness...represented on his cracked darkened lips. “Maybe you’re ngh...” He pauses, the very idea sends a jitter through him. Chasing it was the whisper of appeared to be sorrowful regret. “It’s just my heart.”

Craig nods. Long as Tweek agrees with it, he can keep lying to himself. He can keep telling himself, these feelings aren’t real because this is a war zone. No matter how much he wants to...—it doesn’t mean anything. It won’t do anything beneficial for victory.

“But I give you an easy mercy question like that and you fuck it up!” Tweek lowers the flames a little too close for Craig’s comfort. If there is any hint of concern it doesn’t show on his face. “You know what I HAVE to do now?”

Craig remains stoic. _ He knows. _But Tweek’s erratic nature can be unpredictable sometimes, so a little hope dwells in a tiny crack in his heart. “You’re overreacting, Honey.” 

The warboy grits his teeth. A sour expression turns the ends of his mouth jagged. “Don’t tell me that.” He hisses, lining up the sharp edge of the weapon to impale the mariner’s head.

Craig calmly continues to relax his boyfriend. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” His life rest in Tweek’s hands—he’s put it there unintentionally, but he trusts him full-heartedly.

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I GAVE YOU A CHANCE!”

“Babe.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Make me.”

Tweek closes his eyes, a hand trading Craig’s wrist for strands of blond hair. He lets out more outraged sounds before attempting to jab his weapon into Craig’s chest.

Sharp edges and nails hammer into iron. 

The mariner sees the opening and takes it. “No mercy.” He pulls the trigger.

The squish of liquid, jolts open the warboy’s eyes. “You sneaky asshole!” He squeals barely moving his head to avoid being sprayed by the disgusting concoction. His torch misses his victim’s chest, as he uses the long end to knock the gun away.

“You’d take me out unarmed?” The mariner forcefully slams both his hands on Tweek’s shoulders, aggressively squeezing them.

Tweek yelps, “If I needed to!” Craig flips their positions. The warboy’s weapon slips from his grasp and goes tumbling somewhere near the running water. “You’re the one who said no mercy!”

The both of them fruitlessly tumble around in the dirt. Their foreheads smash against each other, their noses touch, and green homemade jello goo brushes chapped lips with the taste of goldfish.

It’s a blissful and suspenseful moment. Until, it’s broken by a victory screech, “Hell yeah! You losers are buying us ice cream!” The facade of war fades away and all that’s left is a few dumb kids with big imaginations and lawn equipment.

Tweek throws his hands up and shouts with excitement, among the other groans and complaints from the losers.

Craig dizzily sits up, feeling around to grab his water gun. A hand slaps his back.

“Dude, why the heck did you leave your post?” The distraught voice demands.

Craig looks up to see a mop of brown hair behind an alien mask. He flicks him off, “Don’t blame this on me, Clyde. It was a team effort to lose.” Out the corner of his eye, he focuses on Tweek high-fiving Token and celebrating with Jimmy.

“Well one person can still cost the game.” Clyde growls bitterly. He follows Craig’s sight, then shakes his head. “Damn it. You just can’t resist him, can you? Did you _ let _ him win?”

Craig raises another middle finger at Clyde. This time the finger is _ for _ Tweek. He glares at his friend harshly, “I don’t have to take it easy on Tweek.” He’d damn anyone to an early grave who dared call his boyfriend weak. “We were fighting for real.”

Clyde rolls his eyes. “There is no way possible!” He stomps his feet ready to throw a fit. “I could taste our delicious frozen dairy victory! No one is that skilled!”

The raven haired boy turns his back on him. “Tweek is.” He dusts off his clothes, leaving to search for his hat.

“C-craig!” Tweek calls out from across the street. He holds up the blue hat as an offering. “You sit by me when we get ice cream and I’ll give you it back.”

“What?” Craig complains. He looks both ways before dashing across the street. “How are you going to make a trade with something that rightfully belongs to me?”

The blond trembles eagerly, taking off running to the side of the house. His foot snags on the camouflaged green garden hose and he almost takes a tumble before friendly arms rescue him.

“I was going to sit next to you anyway.” Craig’s monotone voice enters Tweek’s ears. He pulls him back up on his feet.

Tweek stops twitching, relief filling him that Craig caught him before he bit the dust. His voice cracks as he looks up at his boyfriend thoughtfully, “I know.” He fumbles with the hat in his hands, tracing the knitted pattern as obscure as his emotions. “I’m sorry…argh...I knocked your hat off.”

“It’s cool.” Craig shrugs it off. “You were a total badass out there.” For the first time all day, a smile slips on his face. A real genuine smile. “If Clyde says any slick shit, just know he’s being a crybaby.”

Tweek can’t help but feel enamored at Craig’s sincerity. “You were awesome too.”

Craig moves to pick up the water gun limply hanging at his side. “You wanna touch it?” He’s so proud of his weapon. “I can teach you how to shoot up the block.”

“Oh Jesus!” Tweek says, knitting his eyebrows in disgust. “I’d rather not.” He stands up on his tippy-toes to put Craig’s hat back where it belongs.

“See! I knew they’d be back h-“ The voice is cut off to a loud surprised scream.

Craig turns to hug Tweek, the gun in his hand still spewing out gross ammo at the unwelcome guest. His touch is feathery, tentative, and abruptly shy. Tweek slowly eases into wrapping his arms around Craig. His mouth making an anxious little hum as a soothing hand rubs his back. They both stink and their bodies are drenched in sweat—but all they focus on is the other’s tired panting.

“About earlier...You know my heart. I lo-" The rest of the word remains the edge of Craig’s tongue. He sighs at the weight in his hold. “It’s hard to confess and you asked the question out of nowhere.”

Tweek smiles understandingly. “Ye-ngh!” He buries his face in Craig’s shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure there were,” his sentence comes out a bit muffled as he speaks against the fabric, “no hard feelings during the game.”

“Really? You sounded upset.”

“I was…but I think I'm better now.”

Craig non-verbally accepts, recognizing the frailness of the moment. “Do you want me to hold you some more or something?” He whispers, still hugging Tweek endearingly.

Tweek blushes, his hands tightly clenching to sweat stains on Craig’s jacket. “I don’t know.” He feels a fuzzy feeling erupting in his chest. “If we...umm…” Bashfulness steal away any sort of confidence. He peeks his head back up to clearly state, “Let’s just catch up with the rest of the guys.”

They pull away and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll share my ice cream with you.” Tweek offers. “But afterwards, you better...ngh... help me wipe off all this makeup and fake tattoos.”

Craig lowers his weapon. “Okay.” He scopes up Tweek’s hand. “Just don’t get coffee flavored.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes when I play Phone Destroyer....my mind wanders. Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day.~Mel


End file.
